


Up Late

by forthegenuine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Innuendo, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegenuine/pseuds/forthegenuine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I honestly didn’t think you would last that long,” she said, shaking her head a little, still in disbelief. “You went nearly a whole hour without touching."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Late

**Author's Note:**

> An unapologetic little ficlet that popped into my head this morning. This is my version of dirty talk.

The alarm from the mobile resting on the nightstand pierced the stillness of the room for the second time that morning. Morning was perhaps a generous descriptor, as it was still dark as night outside. One of the occupants of the bed, only lightly dozing for the past nine minutes, promptly turned off the insistent device. 

“Molly,” called Sherlock’s deep voice. He looked to his side, but still, the mobile’s owner did not stir.

At least this time, she was able to muster a non-verbal hum of acknowledgment, “Hm.”

“That was your alarm.”

“Early,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“I’ve already hit the snooze button.”

“Early.”

“You have to get up for work.”

“Very very early,” she repeated adamantly, her face still buried halfway into her pillow, as if trying to block out the world.

Perhaps it was time to take a different tactic, Sherlock decided. “I’ll go put on some tea.”

Molly groaned in disapproval.

"Coffee?" he ventured. No response. At least it wasn't an outright objection. "And some toast," he added. Okay, still no response. He was not deterred, however, because he was a firm believer that not-no means yes. He leaned over Molly's form, hoping that a closer proximity would be more effective. It was clear that she needed a heavier hand in persuasion. "The sooner you get to work, the sooner you'll be off, and we have that case––er, mini-holiday in Liverpool." He waited for a moment before he continued. "I promise I won't be working the whole time. Case is mostly solved anyway, I just need visual confirmation." And, the final touch, inching closer to her ear, "We could go look at that beetle museum you talked about."

This elicited a physical response. She opened one eye and turned her head to face his, their noses nearly touching. “It’s a Beatles exhibit.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Never mind.” Her smile turned into a yawn. “Okay. I’m getting up now,” she declared, alert enough, even, to make a mental note to herself to add the seminal British rock band to her list of things she needed to school her consulting detective on in future. Molly stretched her entire body, willing her eyes and all her other cells to widen. She sat up, the covers gathering at her waist, as Sherlock straightened against the headboard.

“I always thought you were a morning person,” he said, rubbing her back in small circles. 

“I am.” She turned her torso to face him, using her arm to brace herself. “Except _somebody_ kept me up late last night.”

“You said you wanted to play.”

“I honestly didn’t think you would last that long,” she said, shaking her head a little, still in disbelief.

“It was rather fun though, wasn’t it?” smiling at the memory.

“You went nearly a whole hour without touching.”

“I know,” he grinned proudly.

“You and your clever fingers.”

“I know. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You were very good.”

“You lasted quite a while, too. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been up so late.” He moved his body forward so that their faces were inches from each other’s.

“I had a feeling you liked it.” It was her turn to smile with self-satisfaction.

“I did.” He lifted a hand to her face, and gave her a quick kiss. “We got up to what––five, six times? I’d lost count. I’m tempted to keep you here so we can have another go at it.” At this, Sherlock deepened the kiss, not minding that her breath was still sour from sleep. 

Molly brought her hand up to cradle his cheek. “But I’ll be late for work,” she argued half-heartedly against his lips.

Sherlock groaned at the reminder. “Fine. We’ll do it the minute you get home.” He planted one last kiss before withdrawing.

“Okay. But just the one time. I’ve still got to pack.”

Sherlock pulled back the duvet on his side of the bed and swung his legs off the edge. He got out of bed, intending to make them breakfast. He stopped halfway as he was tying the sash of his dressing gown. “Sorry for keeping you up playing Operation.”

Molly let out a laugh. “It’s okay. It was fun.” She reached out to grab his gown, and pulled him down for a kiss, before watching him walk out the bedroom.

As soon as he disappeared, he popped his head back in the door. “And the sex afterwards was rather good, too, wasn’t it?”

“Always,” she replied, a wide smile never leaving her face. Not for the rest of the day.

_shmhshmhshmhshmhshmh_

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated. Cheers!


End file.
